Have enough of our loved ones been absorbed by plague, war, and the general collapse of things for us to pose as a baroque painting? My witch said yes, so just think of all the pretty things we‘re gonna get now! Just like Emilie Autumn once sang about pretty dresses and hair when expecting to die soon – priorities!
So, for me it looks like I will wear my corset once more and my cheeks will be rose and my lips will be red and I will wear pearls between sculls rolling around. What more can I even ask for?
Oh, yea. Right. There‘s the thing with the loved once that, well, once have been and more and more are not anymore. Those in mass graves, and those otherwise absorbed by the horror of being alive right now, but hey! A few hundred years ago this also lead to people wanting to feel pretty and painting sculls into things to just not completely exclude death from everything. My witch can tell!
It‘s so fucking hard to love someone in a world collapsing. What do I even say? Do I pet their head and lie about things ever being fine, or do I shock them with passion and ask to take me one last time and send these words right into their bleeding heart? Tough choice! And, oh! There‘s also another option.
I could just accept to lose them.
Lose them to death.
Lose them to life.
Because I found them in a world that once was better.
He lives in a world made of waffles and cinnamon, and she lives in a world with sculls rolling around.
You can‘t have both, boy
You can‘t have both.
„So, all of this is about avoiding to lose someone?“, the nice man in the nice blue shirt asked me recently. And I was avoiding eye contact with my therapist through my freshly blow dried, long red hair.
At least I feel pretty.
Unloved tale
OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…
Just a haunted girl scaring her friends – Writing update!
Intrigued. And quite as bit terrified.Those were the exact same words I got as feedback from my friends whom I’d recently handed the first pages of the witching novel to. Seems like I’ve accomplished my task, right? I’m the haunted girl scaring all her friends!No, but really. It felt as if I was understood through…
Tale about the softest secret
This tale is about a girl I once knew. This girl could not go anywhere without her lovely white shoes. Made of cotton, their rim did not reach her ankles, giving away how thin they were. Their soles were so slim, she felt the earth with every step. Those shoes she needed so dearly were…
Mistress witch writes 